Dissidia: Balance of the Cycle
by Hierarch Andaronius
Summary: Harmony-Discord. Light-Darkness. Good-Evil. Each can't exist without the other. This is what the warriors of Cosmos and Chaos do not know. The warrior that walks both paths must survive the forces of Cosmos and Chaos to find the true victory. But what lies beyond this victory? Who exactly are the villains and who are the heroes? SLOW UPDATES


It was to supposed end with the thirteenth cycle.

However, such fantasies are never made into reality.

Water rippled and lapped gently at the armored greaves that shielded his feet as a gentle breeze kissed the sterling locks that flowed from within the edges of his helmet. Near silence surrounded him, the constant shuffling of uneasiness from the other warrior's footwear. The skies were punctuated by the graceful, sweeping movements of slight clouds, puffy and saturated with tears that whispered a promise of rainfall, paired with a slight wind that swept across the land.

Under many other circumstances, he would have loved to lazily lounge about, simply relishing in the serene environment that was a visual promise of peace. He was fairly certain most, if not all, of his fellow warriors would, in some form or another, mimic his act of laxity.

But, such wishes are to stay a fantasy.

The Warrior of Light's eyes were narrowed as he gazed across the dark, ragged terrain of the rocky mesa, focused upon a sight that could be seen by none. His form was still and tall, standing proud and noble at the lead of a group of individuals, his head held high and unflinching. A shimmering sword of stunning craftsmanship was clasped loosely in his right fist, the dim light of the obscured sun reflecting upon the cool flauntless steel, flowing in tandem with the flux of shades and tones that were the mirrors of the clouds like liquid seeping down the blade. Clad in a resplendent suit of platemail of an opal hue interlaced with dipping fingers of glittering gold, he was the very image of the hero, the savior, if not anything more.

His stance was not only for his own preparedness, but also stood as a figure of inspiration for the other warriors of the light. Some of the warriors summoned by Cosmos were not built solely for battle like the others summoned in past cycles. A rumble from beneath the earth was not only felt, but heard. A meager signal of the violent tremor of war that will follow soon. Knowing this, the Warrior of Light took this moment of peace to scan his allies, to better understand how each of the warriors will fight, so he can better assist them in battle. For he knows they will need it, as will he. All the warriors had little in common, save for the warriors that descended fro mthe same world. Each of them was torn from the fabric they called reality, each one infinitely different from one another.

To his right stood a man clad in multiple articles of clothing of the deepest onyx. A simple sleeveless shirt with a high collar and a zipper running down the center, under the criss-crossing straps that wrapped around his torso. Coarse onyx material extending from his waist to a pair of thick, rugged military-grade boots. Pauldrons of hard leather adorned his shoulder, the symbol of a Fenrir attached to the left side. A sleeve, which was unattached to a shirt, hung loosely over his left arm, attached to his body by a strap wrapping around his body. A similar article of clothing wrapped around his left leg, further making his attire asymmetrical. His right arm was bare, save for the leather gloves worn by both hands. Clasped tightly within his right hand was a monstrous sword, the blade being made up of other unique blades. Despite the blade being over five feet long and appearing to be to heavy for his slender arms to carry, Cloud Strife showed no signs of discomfort when he mounted the sword on his shoulder.

Standing next to Cloud, was someone who promised to always be there at his side. Wearing clothes of the same shade as Cloud's, only more appropriate for her gender such as her zippered vest, black shorts, and mini-skirt along with a long duster traveling down the back of her legs, Tifa Lockhart stood in a more relaxed posture than her friend. She leisurely tightened her leather gloves as her deep ruby eyes glanced at Cloud's shimmering blue counterparts, knodding to him and giving a small smile as if reassuring him for something. The Warrior of Light mentally reprimanded himself when he found his focus not on her attire but rather on just her, and the way her body was shaped.

Quickly averting his gaze to refrain his mind from ensuing any further obesrvations of the shapely warrior, he found his eyes studying a man wrapped in armor similar to his own. Standing a few feet behind the other two warriors, this man was adorned with armor of the most serene cerulean. His chest, forearms, and legs gleamed as the source of light above reflected off his armor, contradicting the color of his many weapons which were colored a wild rose red. Unlike his cape, which flowed gently with the breeze, his hair was hindered from any movement from the wind because of the orange bandana he wore. Holding a rose in one hand, Firion held it close to him, the rose being a multitude of symbolic reassurance for the expert of multiple weapons.

Next to Firion and even closer to the Warrior of Light, stood a young blonde man who looked like he had just reached the age to be called so. His attire was nearly undescribable, being made of multiple torn garments. All anyone could make out was the yellow hooded shirt with the left sleeve torn off, instead covering his arm with a dark blue pauldron and a gauntlet, and the overalls that were also torn at the knees. The man's expression was unlike any of the others; on the contrary, his face was lit by a cheerful, confident, almost contagious grin, his sapphire eyes bright and unclouded. His aquamarine sword was held in a similar fashion; confident yet casual. Though lacking the stern serious gaze of concentration the others had, the Warrior of Light could not immediately call Tidus unfit for the battle to come.

Turning even more to the right, the Warrior of Light was now looking at the vast amount of warriors that stood behind him. He first noticed the young lady with hair the same color of her aqua blue eyes. Wearing a halter top with two intersecting pink belts, black shorts and stockings, two clothes of white and blue drapped over her waist, bell sleeves and boots adorned with spikes, the Warrior of Light questioned if this was what she wore out of leisure, or would actually fight in. He also questioned her weapon. It was blade, yet at the same time it wasn't. At the end of the blade, the teeth were extended in an unfamiliar manner, making the entire blade resemble a key. Aqua herself, was to busy looking at a little blue star-shaped charm. Her gaze completely was fixed on the piece of metal and made her appear oblivious to all that was happening around her.

Contrasting her was a tall individual who was adorned with a set of jet black, lethally spiked platemail, his facial features obscured by a fearsome helmet from which a pair of ominous, glowing eye-visors glared. The Warrior felt, as always, a heavy, shrouding cloak of shadow greet his spiritual presence with a chilling embrace whenever he concentrated upon the armored Hero; Cecil Harvey wore darkness and shadow about him akin to a reaper torn from the macabre grasp of the most hellish nightmares, and bore the deepest darkness of them all upon his heart. But the Warrior had faith within his tormented ally, and felt the light that this Dark Knight carried within his soul.

Two honorable thieves flanked each of his sides. The one to the left was a tall young man, wearing a pair of decorative pants and a very thin platemail vest. A sword and shield were wielded in each hand, though Vaan would often change his weapons form to better accompany a different battle situation. His gaze reminded the Warrior of Light of Tidus, the way he somehow mixed a look of ultimate concentration yet still had a small smile of relaxation. The other thief, who was obviously of a different species, was switching his center of balance from one foot to the other, clearly in building anticipation. With his tail swishing back and forth in a similar anticipating manner, the little Genome; Zidane, was clearly eager to see the battle begin. Whether Zidane was eager to fight, or eager to end the fight and salvage in the aftermath, the Warrior of Light would have to survive the battle to see.

The youngest hero of them all, the wide-eyed teen known to him only as the Onion Knight, stood directly in front of Cecil. His attire, was even more flamboyantly outrageous than the rest. Dressed in slacks of a glaring crimson, the Onion Knight proudly bore a glamorous white cape that was swept over his shoulders, tucked under a magnificent helmet that had multiple plumes of feathers sprouting from the top. His emerald eyes shone with a mixture of curiosity and ferocity. Draped past his hips was a protective overskirt of an unfamiliar, luminescent material that glowed with a flaming orange, seeming akin to licking fire that appeared to dance upon his vestments. Clutched within his grip was a golden sword that shone with navy blue runes.

Moving his gaze again, the Warrior's eyes rested upon another female dressed, although scantily, in the darkest colors. Her midnight colored hair was held above her forehead by a black and white bandana, which had two long strands cascade down her back. Again, the look of an eager and expectant teenager was plastered on her face, her caramel eyes brightened with a youthful playfulness. She wore a simple black vest over a navy blue shirt, which had an adequate amount of floral patterns. From her hip down, she only had a pair of ridiculously short khaki's of the same color, going with her knee-high boots that were instead a lighter grey. The large shuriken, and multitude of smaller ones, were twirled between her fingers. Her choice of weapons and attire had an overall theme of blending in and striking from a distance; an assassin. The Warrior of Light could feel more at ease during a fight with this striker from the shadows supporting him without intefering in the battle itself.

The next figure the Warrior laid his eyes on was Noctis, as he looked back. If a stare could kill, the Warrior would have been slain then and there. Noctis was dressed in a manner of leisure, uncaring of how unprotective his choice of garments was. Consisting of merely a black jacket, a navy blue shirt, and the most uninteresting pants, Noctis' simplicity in his clothing hid his complex style of battle. What also made the Warrior of light at a bit of unease was Noctis' eyes. At first glance, they appeared to be a light blue, but when he averted his gaze towards the Warrior, his iris' were slowly turned into a wine red. He couldn't tell if Noctis' was getting angry, or if his own eyes were playing tricks on him. The Warrior disapproved that second statement, for his eyes were well honed and have never betrayed him before.

Speaking of eyes, one particular warrior had a pair of eyes that were not one particular color. One eye was blue, the other a differing green. This type of hereditary feature could only be possible if each parent was a different species than the other. One parent had to be human at least, for the young woman had the form of said species. She looked fairly normal, wearing what only young adolescents would wear. A white modified halter-neck top that was split down the middle but was still covered by a crest of an unknown symbol, with a pink hood somehow attached to the straps. The smallest of shorts were partially hidden behind a skirt, for the skirt only covered the entirety of her left leg. Her belt hung loosely around her hips, and the pouch on the side helped the belt stay in its slanted position, and her plain brown knee-high boots weren't worth detailing. Although her chocolate brown hair was only short enough to barely scrape her shoulders a long braid of hair was long enough to pool on the ground behind her. Although clothes weren't normally anything special, Yuna's clothes seemed to be radiating energy, as if the power to transform laid dormant within the fine linens. Each of Yuna's hands caressed a small pistol gun, though these guns looked like they had a bit of magic within them also.

Bartz, on the other hand, was entirely human, and was, to the Warrior's quiet approval, the most practically attired and equipped of the rest of them. Clad in simple travelling slacks and a body hugging jerkin that was unlikely to interfere with his movements, Bartz wore his brown hair short in a controlled style. Strangely, the young man carried no weapons of any kind, and upon being questioned by the other Heroes, he had simply given an enigmatic smile and assured them that he did not need one. all the mages that were summoned detected no magical aura of significant magnitude from Bartz, and the Warrior had been slightly concerned, until he had assured himself that the Goddess Cosmos must have chosen Bartz for a reason.

Conversing with Bartz right now was young man with blonde spiky hair, almost as spiky as Cloud's. His eyes were blue also, but lacked the telltale mako gleam Cloud possessed. What he wore was different from the others; a jacket overlapping a shirt, both split in the middle for the color of white and black, an attire praising the Yin-Yang colors. Pants with the same horizontal split of colors at the knees, and a piece of armor attached as a belt buckle and one attached to his left shoulder. Although the armor pieces were of a different color and shape, it was nonetheless the same type of armor Aqua had fastened to her forearms. From this analysis, the Warrior could predict that these two warriors descended from the same realm. Also, Ventus was wielding a blade shaped like a key also, but his hold on it was reversed, with the blade behind his back and the hand guard on the inside. Not to mention, how he would constantly twirl the blade in his hand.

In front of Bartz stood a slender young woman draped in foreign vestments of a passionate rouge and white, her slim shoulders angled towards the sudden cause of sound. A pair of beautiful amber eyes that shone with innocence and melancholy gazed from a lovely, smooth-skinned face, locks of emerald green cascading in an ornate pattern over her shoulders. Her draping cloak flowed down her delicate shoulder blades to kiss the curved, metallic hilt of a radiant blade that was as just as slender as it's owner. The Warrior of Light sensed the barely restrained aura of lethal magic that practically shimmered around Terra Branford's form, only contained by her endless reserves of psychic power and restraint. Even so, the magnitude of her abilities was such that, even under her iron walls of self-discipline, the Warrior felt his hackles rising involuntarily in reaction to the psychic aura, and for a moment, he felt grateful for her presence as an ally.

Although Terra was not at all tall, her figure seemed to appear taller than average, thanks to the minuscule sorceress next to her. The little mage seemed to be laughing, despite the obvious endeavor that will soon occur. Dressed in a mere tunic, the rhyming little Tarutaru showed the most confidence among the other warriors. This was not to say the other warriors were cowardly, it was only in observance that Shantotto showed the obvious signs of over-confidence. But the Warrior of Light felt her presence within several parts of his fractured memories,and also felt that her over-confidence was well earned. Shantotto, with staff in hand, ceased her laughter and began to reprimand the warrior in front of her. This person seemed to be of the same descent as the mage, for her pointed ears had the same outrageous length and wore the same style of tunic. But what was really different was that Prishe was as tall as a normal teenager, despite being far older than that, had long silver hair, was more joyous and upbeat, and was not a sorceress. Still, she was more than competant in hand to hand fighting, something the Warrior hoped he would never have to succumb to.

Watching both of them with a judging expression, Squall Leonhart kept his distance behind them. Although he heard all the dialogue of their conversation, Squall saw no need to defend Prishe against Shantotto's claim that she was lazy and not suited to fight such a climatic battle. Squall himself readied his peculiar weapon, a gunblade, onto his shoulder as lightning began to unleash itself from the heavens. A black bomber jacket hung from his shoulders to his midriff, and a simple gray shirt rode his torso until it hooked into a girdle of pristine white feathers that the brooding hero hung from his hips, the top of the feathered hood hiding where the clasp of his Lion necklace would be located. Directly below these were a trio of belts, hooked and trapped across each other in a strange harness that connected to a pair of plain black jeans and combat boots. The Warrior spent a moment looking the gunblade over once more, trying to figure how such a weapon that emphasized on such awkward pressure of the wrist could be used effectively.

An equally cold figure stood next to Squall, her lips formed into an unfeeling frown. Her aquamarine eyes, along with scrunched eyebrows, seemed to project the lack of heat her stare exerted. What didn't help keep her standoffish attitude believable was her long cherry-blossom hair that cropped from the top of her heart shaped head down across her left shoulder. Her uniform consisted of a sleeveless white overcoat over a brown turtleneck shirt zipped up to the top, a green metallic pauldron over her left shoulder, the pauldron bearing yellow stripes symbolizing her a rank belonging to a faction of military. A red cape was attached to her uniform near her left shoulder blade, a long black sleeve over her left arm, knee-high leather boots, and a brown mini-skirt over high-topped black shorts. Her weapon, also called a Gunblade, was holstered in a scabbard that was hung over her shoulder and hung around the back of her knees. From the parts that peeked out from the leather, her Blazefire only presented itself as a gun, no blade shown to be attached or polymerized into the gun itself like Squall's. Perhaps there was a bayonet of some sort that was hidden when it was holstered.

In an entire change of character, the next warrior the Warrior of Light laid his eyes upon was blazing with enthusiasm. Even his hair, a smoldering red-orange, mimicked a flame that was dancing its way down a steep slope of incendiary deadwood. His eyes had the same conflagration but were painted a memorable emerald. Even further defining his alignment with the scorching source of light, his Chakrams were imbued with flames that coursed through the inner-workings of the steel weapons that also cascaded over the spikes and blades that decorated it. His hands seemed to be unaffected by the intense fires. Axel only wore one article of clothing; a long black overcoat that had a hood, one zipper going down the middle from the neck to the heels, and under that as part of the uniform, long black boots and black leather gloves. The front zipper was undone all the way to the hip, undoubtedly to give his legs unhindered movement.

A character with the same charisma and enticing attitude stood next to him, cocking his submachine gun in a challenging fashion, directed towards the flurry of dancing flames. Dressed in a simple attire that consisted of a jean jacket over a plain white t-shirt, deep brown colored cargo-pants tucked into his black combat boots and held up by a thick black belt. With probably the longest black mane of the male warriors, Laguna held a stance of attention, as if he were a soldier from the world he was swept away from. This stance coupled with his ecstatic grin, was a full representation of his easiness yet dedication to his duty.

Auron, who's name had been recently revealed, had whatever glare his eye, the one not affected by a scar, were protruding hidden behind a jet black pair of shades. Auron wore a deep red haori with blue lining, kept closed with a thick, black and blue strap with two brown belts wrapped around it, while one arm was worn normally through the sleeve, one was kept in the front of his haori, resembling a sling, a tradition from a long forgotten society. He also wore a brown shoulder pad on his left shoulder that is intricately decorated with tan, green and blue patterns, with a beaded ornament dangling from it. His black pants and shoes, the latter of which have brown straps and triangular metal plating, were kept still in his unyielding stance. Truly a warrior of a time long before, Auron seemed like he came from a realm still not associated with the need for scientific accomplishments. His last piece of attire, was his jug, filled with a magical liquid that although tasted good, left many a warrior alike unfit for primary motorskills. Hefting a thick sword designed after a katana, the dark haired guardian could surely handle his own in battle.

She was stunning. The Warrior never knew that such a being could exist at the same time of Cosmos, a being with such a radiant and powerful light of the heart. Somewhere and somehow, the Warrior of Light had heard of this particular maiden, and how she was a princess; but not just any princess. The power of her heart could be felt from a distance; a warm light of reassurance and kindness to all. To make matters even more unbelievable, the Princess of Heart was truly as beautiful as a goddess. Her soft alabaster skin had a slight tan across her body along with a light pink flush of the teeth. Her auburn hair never was affected by anything harmful. And her eyes...were unlike anything anyone had ever scene; they were blue, but yet had the smallest tinge of violet mixing in with the blue iris'. A mere pink strapless mini-dress with an underlying white halter top with an attached black hood was all she wore, not really an attire fit for the title of princess. She obviously belonged to the same realm of Aqua and Ventus, for her weapon was a Keyblade, with the teeth being an arrange of flowers and most things dear, and the entirety of it colored in gold and violet.

And last, and the most peculiar, was a mouse. Not just any field mouse, this one was nearly two feet in height and had big monstrous ears, the same color as his full hair. Another Keyblade wielder, this mouse was addorned with red and white uniform with many zippers for decorations, while his weapon symbolized the shooting star across a night blue sky. This mouse was standing to the immediate left of the Warrior of Light, making him wonder why he didn't see Mickey first. Even more prepostrous was that he was the King...of an entire world. Whatever kingdom had the honor of being ordered by this mouse must be in pristine condition, for King Mickey showed no kind of inability in any sort of role, especially in the field of battle.

The Warrior of Light focused his gaze upon the cliffs on the far side of the mesa as a tremble greater than before coursed through the ground, his eyes narrowed and concentrating, easily picking out minute detail despite the huge distance between them as lava exploded from the rock face, spewing liters of liquid conflagration into the skies, raining smoldering death upon the rocky ground. The stone that had been one and still for centuries shifted, splitting and crumbling to the sides as the eruption's fury was made manifest, arcs of fiery wrath spitting from the deep grooves in the rock as entire sections of the cliff face collapsed away. Finally, with a monstrous, deafening explosion, the entire cliff erupted in a blinding inferno as a mighty upsurge of lava blasted its way through the stone, spiraling into the heavens.

The eyes of the Warrior hardened and flashed with fury as a group of individuals slowly emerged from the roaring streams of fire and lava, emerging from the hellish firestorm and stalking forwards to the cliff edge. All around him, the Warrior could hear sharp intakes of breath and snarls as his fellow Heroes recognized their personal foes and demons, and the Warrior felt his pulse race in loathing as he recognized the leader of the antagonists.

First to emerge from the hellstorm was the massive, heavily armored form of Garland, the Chaos Knight, and one by one, his cohorts and allies followed. Kefka, the sadistic clown, and then there was the confident, floating form of Kuja, arrogance shining from his alien eyes. The Warrior instantly sighted the tall, imposing form of Jecht and the massive blade that he bore, and noted the smile fading from Tidus' lips as father and son came face to face once more. A sharp intake of breath from Cecil indicated the presence of his brother, Golbez, emerging from the updraft of flame, followed by the hulking, striding form of Ex-Death, gargantuan, curved blades held within their gauntlets. Flanking them hovered the slender, lethally seductive forms of Ultimecia and the Cloud of Darkness, the Warrior of Light instantly feeling their spiritual presences and magical auras even from across the mesa.

In the second row of Chaos chosen, strode the figures of Sephiroth and Zack Fair. Cloud's reaction was a silent gasp, as he realized his enemies would be his brother in bond and the bane of his planet, fighting side by side. To their sides came the two who were opposite in person but of the same origin; Ansem, the Seeker of Darkness, and Xemnas, the Superior over Nothing, the Warrior could feel their powers of darkness and nothingness match, if not eclipse, the powers of the Cloud of Darkness and Ultimecia. Both were utilizing their powers to levitate themselves over the uneven ground. Next, strode the deceiving form of Marluxia, an arc of petals immersing from his massive scythe, disguising his cruel intentions with a garden of beauty. Bartz scrunched his eyes in reaction to Gilgamesh's form striding in and towering over Zack and Sephiroth, his hands each equipped with a sword taken as victory booty.

Another figure walked up next to Jecht, his claymore much bigger than Jecht's massive blade. Axel huffed, he could recognize Saix from any distance. Approaching from behind and now standing in front of Exdeath, stood the shell of a pure dark heart, a Keyblade forged from Chaos' form itself grasped in his hand, his dome mask hiding any emotion. Ventus straightened his posture as he felt his own darkness, Vanitas, challenge him in a secret and silent manner. After him came the Dragoon of Baron, armored in the most furious violet. Cecil was now thoroughly distraught, having to fight his brother by blood, and now his brother in bond; Kain Highwind.

The Warrior was surprised at the next apostle of Chaos who emerged from the hellstorm, not only at Squall's reaction, but also at the fact Seifer wielded a gunblade too. Aqua did nothing to stifle her gasp as she witnessed Terra, with Keyblade in hand, walk up and stand next to was not the Terra the Warriors of cosmos knew, this one was a strong young man, nearly as tall as Garland. Vincent was the name Yuffie murmured at the next figure that emerged from the raining lava. Vincent's blood red cape flung wildly about, his hands doing nothing to staunch it, save for holding his gun and holster ready to draw. The next figure to emerge from the flames, was Emperor Mateus, his magical presence instantly flaring alongside Ultimecia and the Cloud of Darkness, his stave lifted in salute.

They kept on coming, Gabranth leading the next group, the steel-armored Judge Magister linking his two staves together to form an immense spear. Behind him came a figure with long silver locks, though his glowing emerald eyes were more noticeable, even from hundreds of feet away. Another Keyblade wielder, Riku held his Way to Dawn in his fighting stance, as if he were already in battle. The next figure, wielding a rapier, didn't belong with the grotesque monsters, warriors of hell, or chaotic apostles of Chaos, for she was a beautiful woman. Stella didn't look like the type that would serve Chaos and his lot, but maybe there was a secret scheming beast beneath that beauty with alabaster skin. The Warrior of light thought about this, but Noctis' widening eyes proved that he was surprised she was there also.

And last, and perhaps most to be feared, came the hunched form of Master Xehanort. To many people, warrior and civilian alike, an aging old man would seem like hardly a threat. In fact, some of the summon warriors on both sides doubted the effectiveness of summoning such an aged man for the works of chaos, but all knew better than to question the gods. The Warrior of Light straightened again as he noticed the very weapon Xehanort was wielding; a Keyblade. _What power could these weapons possess?_ Barely kept from dragging, the demonic looking key was intimidating on it's own, but paired with the cold stare of the old man was enough to make the Warrior exhale a breath to calm his nerves. Master Xehanort calmly made his way around the warriors of Chaos, now standing in front of Garland at the forefront, casting a shadow in more ways than one.

And for a moment, there was silence. A lack of movement. Just the Heroes, just the Villains, gazing upon each other with a mixture of loathing and fury, as the wind swirled around them and arcs of lightning danced in tandem across the skies. With a colossal shout of exploding fire, a gargantuan, terrifying shape reared from the depths of the volcano behind the Villains, molten streams of lava pooling and smoldering around the behemoth, giving birth to an utterly monstrous pair of flaming wings. A visage more fearsome than any creature that existed within the Warrior's nightmares protruded from the fiery expanse of its shoulders, a face born from the deepest depths of darkness, a façade of flames and fear. Smoking spatters of lava dripped from his white-hot limbs as Chaos, God of Discord, reared to full statured and loosed an apocalyptic, deafening roar of challenge that echoed across the mesa, and for a moment, the Warriors of Order felt tendrils of the most desperate trepidation take root within even their stoic hearts.

But only for a moment, and then the Warrior felt a soothing presence, not as ostentatious or intimidating as Chaos' caress his very soul, quelling the chill of the fear and banishing the darkness of indecision, filling him with a calmness and serenity that straightened his shoulders and lent him strength. The Light fighter cast his gaze sideways, and saw his companions regain their resolve, watching as Zidane curiously turned and glanced upwards even as a shining light bathed them in a protective girdle. Cloud angled his eyes upwards and watched as the dark, shadowy clouds parted and the blissful, shimmering form of Cosmos, Goddess of Order, made herself manifest, her melancholic gaze resting upon her sworn foe.

His well trained eyes detecting the slightest movement from the antagonists, as they all readied their weapons for battle. The Warrior of Light in response readied his weapon in tandem with his companions, their weapons drawn and readied to a chorus of whispers of sibilant silver being drawn from the sheath. In addition, after slamming a fist on their small patches of armor and a flash of light, Aqua, Ventus, and Kairi were now clad in spectacular armor, each of them owning the shades and colors of their Keyblades.

Lightning flashed, and both the Heroes and Villains charged at once as the volcano erupted in fire.

Again the cycle of war will start.

Again the God of Discord will try to claim all power there is to exist.

And again, the Warriors of Cosmos will stop at nothing to deny Chaos his dreams.


End file.
